


Parental Emancipation

by lalondose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Issues, F/M, Parent/Child Incest, Statutory Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalondose/pseuds/lalondose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate works in mysterious ways. Such as a second chance at your high school sweetheart. And destroying a person who's already in pieces, just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parental Emancipation

**Author's Note:**

> Vent piece based on myself.

He began having sleepovers in third grade. The children from school would only come over once, thanks to parental reluctance. On most occasions, Dave’s friend wouldn’t have been able to step one foot through the door before their parents hands landed firmly on their shoulders, steering them away from the apartment, hunched over to direct whispers of warning to them, and with their back to Bro- shielding them from danger. From the world, in his humble opinion. 

They were probably saying something along the lines of strangers not being trustworthy. About how not being allowed over to the Strider’s wasn’t about punishment, but about safety. Because the mess on the floor and the toys strewn about, and that bitter, overwhelming smell that was laced in the couch cushions and the curtains signified bad news. Danger, immaturity, and irresponsibility. 

He could agree with those judgements, he supposed. He had never been equipped to raise a child. He never wanted to raise a child. But what else were you supposed to do when you knock a girl up at 17? She hadn’t been capable of raising it; living off her parents, unable to graduate high school. He wasn’t sure if it had been because of her intelligence, or just her laziness. He never bothered to ask why she only showed up every second day and why all of her assignments came back scratched up in red- the same way her arms always were. He didn’t care.

He had been cheating on her, at the time, with someone a little more popular. The other girl was more outgoing, more capable. She passed her classes with flying colors and still managed to get out on so many weekends that the entire school was talking about her. Every time she had an absence from class a new rumor started; Pregnant, rehab, STIs. But every time she came back, and all the two faced cretins of the high school flashed their fake smiles in her direction, and the cycle would begin again. 

Until one day she didn’t come back. The rumors flew. Bro didn’t know what ones to believe. Military school, pulled into sex trafficking. The most forgiving rumor was that she transferred to a high school specifically for science, to begin a career in experimental biology. The least, that she was murdered. But she never showed up in the news, and he never saw her again. 

15 years later he was here, a penthouse apartment in Houston that he wasted on makeshift milkcrate furniture and near-daily hot boxing. Closing in on a million dollars in savings, and unwilling to spend a dime on anything that couldn’t make him more money. He had spent his youth throwing cash around. He bought his current television ten years ago, unwilling to replace it. The only luxury he replaced was his turntables, hand-me downs going to his little brother-not-brother. 

Their relationship had been abysmal for Dave’s entire life. They ate separately. Bro didn’t pick him up from school. Occasionally they would play video games, but they would do so in silence, the air gradually growing so uncomfortable that Dave would sulk back to disappear into his room. It had been two years since he had brought any friends over. But from what Bro’s surveillance indicated- the way Dave spent all day on his computer, smirking to himself and typing with pauses in between- he likely had made some friends online. Bro had never asked about them, though he did wonder. He would never admit it, but he almost wished Dave would bring it up, as to satisfy his curiosity.

The fall was beginning to close when Dave approached him one night. The sun had set and frost was settling in the corners of the window pane. Despite the time the city below was still bustling- honking cars and music muffled by the glass. 

“Hey Bro?” He began, his voice steady and smooth despite the expression on his face, as though he had been rehearsing in the mirror to find the perfect string of words to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible. “I have this friend- can she sleep over?”

He surveyed his younger brother through the sides of his eyes, head not turning from the television. Dave’s fingers were working out his nerves into the hem of his grungy t-shirt. The stupid white one he always wore, even though it was dingy and yellowed and stained. Bro supposed it was probably his own fault for not buying the kid more clothes.

“You have friends at school?” Bro asked, his gaze returning to the hockey game while his wrist twirled and cracked from behind the couch. His tone was appropriately doubtful. It was probably a blow to Dave’s self esteem, which knocked him off balance and made him fumble off script.

Dave stumbled for words, not having any pre-written lines to refer to. His eyes darted around to everything in the room, hoping for something to inspire the start of a relevant sentence. 

Bro decided to save him before he drowned, waving his hand noncommittally. 

“Yeah, she can stay over.” 

His peripheral vision didn’t miss the way Dave’s face lit up, both in expression and color. Though his voice stayed flat and even- like it usually was- when he said a quick, “Thanks, Bro.” 

His socked feet padded down the hall and back to his bedroom, the squeak of his door hinges ending in a soft click. Bro refocused, eyes back to the television. Though he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering.

Dave had said “she,” which was arguably the most surprising part of the sudden outburst. It must be platonic. Dave couldn’t even speak to girls he liked, let alone stir up any interest in them.

But surely enough, she came. It was about an hour later when Dave was throwing a coat over his shoulders and opening the front door.

“She’s downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

Bro didn’t acknowledge him. And judging by the quickness of the door shutting, Dave didn’t care for any acknowledgment. Briefly Bro looked around. His place was a disaster of dishes and laundry and product; definitely no area suitable for a lady. Whoever her parent was would probably take one look at the place and turn her straight around, like they always had when Dave was a kid. 

He must have been disillusioned with how old Dave was, and the appropriate behavior of kids his age. He only heard two voices behind him when he got back. No mother, no father. Just Dave stammering, and a girl’s calm, collected replies.

“That’s my brother, practically a rock star,” Dave gushed, lying through his teeth, as always. He didn’t look up to Bro. Never had. His voice was higher than usual, and he was talking faster. He was obviously excited about his guest, and he sucked at hiding it.

“Hello,” the girl greeted, her voice deeper than he was expecting from a teenage girl. She sounded mature, most assuredly a young woman. Maybe she was older than Dave. Could be a senior. Yeah right.

He didn’t turn to get a look at her. He lifted a few of his fingers on the hand threaded behind the couch, greeting her silently. She didn’t bother trying again, and together the two disappeared down the hall.

And that was the last he heard of them for hours. Every once in awhile Dave’s bedroom door would open and one of them would walk across the small hall to use the washroom, but that was it. No cries of passion, no drunken laughter. He couldn’t hear a thing. He wasn’t sure what they could have possibly been doing in Dave’s tiny ass bedroom that contained nothing but turntables and a desktop computer, and he didn’t really care.

It was 11PM when Bro turned off the television, lifting himself up from the couch and landing at his desk to work. He had a few more orders to start processing, questions to answer. His made sure to scroll through Dave’s blog, skimming the newest overreaching desperate attempt for online validation before giving up entirely on what he had set out to do, in favor of wasting time on the deep web. 

He could find anything on these pages, from detailed accounts of murder, access to the black market, to child pornography. And he wasn’t about to spend any money, so criminal confessions it was.

It felt like minutes, but hours had passed. Even the city was quiet now, engines and sirens died down from their peak hours earlier. His ears picked up the sound of Dave’s door opening, and his eyes darted to the clock on his computer screen. It was almost three AM. The entire apartment was silent. There was no muffled talking. The entire room was pitch black. 

Then he heard the quiet rustle of a bare foot sliding across carpet. When he turned around, he could barely see her save for the slight illumination on her arm from the computer monitor. Her skin glowed a pale blue in that light. She looked almost alien, and when she turned her head, the light caught her eyes and they flashed, like a cat hunting after nightfall with a lock on its prey.

“I’m thirsty,” she announced, having realized he noticed her. “Dave says you don’t keep anything in the fridge.” 

She stopped speaking and he sat back in his chair, silent. He moved his hands from his keyboard and crossed his arms over his chest. As his eyes adjusted her form became clearer. Her legs were bare, and there was only a sliver of black- maybe navy- panties visible below the low-hanging hem of the too-big-for-her shirt belonging to his brother.

Her chin tilted ever so slightly upward as she started to walk toward him, gently gliding past the junk on the floor as if she had memorized every obstacle. “I would be fine with tap water,” she continued, a challenging tone licking in her voice.

He took another moment to find his voice, half-standing up from his seat to reach for the light switch. “There’s probably a cup in the sink. You might have to wash it.” 

The sudden light briefly blinded him, and when he turned to face her, a shock wave pulsed through him, from his feet to his chest. Familiar thin eyes stared back at him, darkened with smudged eyeliner. Her lips were cleaner than he remembered. Probably because she’d already kissed it off. Or eaten it off, if he was being more optimistic. She looked the same as he had always seen her, but she was different. It wasn’t her. 

The eye contact lasted an eternity before she finally turned away and moved toward the kitchen. He was just barely able to catch the small tug at the corner of her lip before it was out of his view. 

“What’s your birthday?” He asked, her stride pausing momentarily in surprise. Quickly she continued, pulling a cup out of the sink and turning on the tap.

“December 4th. The day after Dave’s. Same year, too.” 

So she was his. She had to be. Despite the rumors spread about her being promiscuous, she would have never slept with anyone else. She was a virgin when he met her. Outwardly energetic, but calm and collected when they were alone. She didn’t want conflict, or to make anything a game. Thinking back, she probably knew he was cheating on her, but was more interested in maintaining his happiness than getting mad at him. How selfless. And stupid. 

He felt a little bad for eyeing up this girl’s muff. 

“Quite the coincidence, Lalonde,” he said, practically under his breath as he carefully observed her reaction. There was a momentary pause in the washing motions of her arm, but either than that, she said nothing. Probably figured Dave already told him her name, not that he knew it because he was her fucking father, and he would recognize a Lalonde anywhere. “Gotta say, I’m surprise your Daddy would let you stay here. Sleepover with a boy? Not appropriate.” 

“Good thing I don’t have one,” she answered, not a beat skipped. The last of his hope shattered as his suspicions were officially confirmed. She turned the tap off once her cup was filled, drinking it in huge gulps as she slowly turned her body around to lean on the counter. “I’m also too old to call my father Daddy. Is that a failure at estimating age appropriate language, or did you just want to hear me say it?” 

Bro pulled his cheeks between his teeth to keep from smirking, tilting his head to observe her from a slightly different angle. “Neither. I was trying to condescend you.” 

“By assuming I’m partial to a father’s rules, or by suggesting I’m a slut with an older boyfriend that wouldn’t want me finding comfort with boys my own age, out of fear for his own physical inadequacy?” 

“Yes.” 

“I believe those types of men are called pedophiles, Mr. Strider. Do you keep them in your company often?” 

He was a little lost for words, keeping his mouth sealed so it didn’t end up hanging open. He never would have imagined such a harsh statement coming from between lips like hers. They were thin; misplaced on a face that still had a few last pinches of baby fat clinging to it. He could see the stretch marks along the outside of her thighs from her hips growing too fast for the skin to catch up. Her body easily betrayed the adult demeanor she was trying to put forward. 

“So why did your mother let you come?” 

“She didn’t.” A simple answer. “She’s an alcoholic. She’s out by 4PM. I simply have to take a twenty from her wallet and call a cab. It’s a little interesting, making up a new story as to why a 15-year-old needs a cab by herself. They ask me where my parents are. I tell them on a business retreat. I’m staying with my grandmother who can’t drive because of her cataracs. Sometimes, they’re dead. Sometimes, I’m going to meet them somewhere, because they just got off work and want to eat a dinner out. It’s easy to deceive them when they’re asking questions they would rather not have answered. They’ll take any excuse I come up with, because they don’t want to get involved with what the truth may be.” 

“You don’t think she’ll worry in the morning?” 

“She’ll be spending the morning embracing porcelain. I’ll be back in before she even had a chance to be my alarm clock.” 

The news was shocking, to say the least. That the fun loving girl he remembered had deteriorated that much. Maybe that was the price of being a single mom? Maybe that was why she disappeared from school. Maybe she was keeping his daughter from him on purpose, because of who he was and what he was like. 

“What’d you say your first name was?” 

“I didn’t.” 

She reached behind her to place her empty cup on the counter, heading toward him once more, the same ghostly glide to her steps. She got closer, closer than he had been to anyone in a long time. Her neck was pulled so far back to look him in the eyes, he could see every ridge in her throat. Her skin was pristine. If they had been fucking, Dave wasn’t a biter. 

“I can see a ticking brain when I see one,” she challenged, her eyes narrowing as she stared up at his. He could feel himself buckling under her gaze. It wasn’t in a submissive way- oh no. Just his self control, crumbling to pieces like it was a building whose demolition responsibilities fell under her name. “What about me is so fascinating to you?”

That she was his daughter. That he had created her, unbeknownst to him. And now she was here, misguided, with no one controlling her actions or behavior. A responsibility that right now, rested solely on his shoulders. And he wanted to catch up on lost time. To chastise her for sneaking out. To make her feel like a slut for sleeping in a boy’s room. He wanted to watch her small thighs at a 180 degree angle while his dick disappeared inside of her and her hands tried to strangle the wrist strangling her.

“You look like an old girlfriend,” he admitted. She seemed to almost light up a little. She didn’t let it cross her face, but he could see it in her wide, hopeful eyes. Then, he smirked. “She had washboard tits, too.”

Whatever hopeful expression had flashed across her seemed to sink. But he kept her engaged, two fingers gently scissoring at the ends of her hair.

“They’re nice, though. Getting your whole hand around one. Or your whole mouth. And girls with flat chests get way more out of it. Too much fat and you lose the sensation.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she seemed to be hanging on his every word. When his hand pulled left, her head followed. When it pushed right, she tilted away. He felt like a snake charmer, carefully manipulating her actions through movement alone. But he knew that wasn’t the case. This girl had daddy issues written all over her. Which, to be fair, were his fault. And would continue to be, after tonight. He could live with it. 

“Have you had someone as young as me?” She asked. Her voice wavered, but only on a single syllable. The rest held strong. Her eyes were shaking- her gaze going in and out of focus. His fingers slipped to her neck and he could feel the intensity of her pulse.

“Not since I was that young. Never been interested before.” 

Sure, he could convince himself his attraction to her wasn’t about age. But he wasn’t about to pretend that meant it was irrelevant. 

“Before now?” She asked, her breath unsteady, though she tried to hide it. Her gaze darted away when his thumb traced the collar of his little brother’s shirt. It was filthy. She shouldn’t be wearing it. 

“Before now,” he assured her, and she stood still, letting him pick her shirt up by the collar to pull it up. She lifted her arms and it came off of her easily, having barely clung to her small frame in the first place. 

Her fists were kneading at her sides, likely to keep her nerve up and not cover her breasts. They were bigger than he realized; hidden under the baggy shirt she was wearing. But they were still quite clearly those that belonged to a teenager. They had stretch marks around the outside and were round instead of perky. Her waist barely dipped in before transitioning to awkwardly widening thighs. 

“Would you rather I turn the light off?” He asked, gesturing behind him with the hand that wasn’t currently resting on her shoulder reassuringly. He had seen what he needed to see of her already. 

“Yes,” came a quick, and breathless reply. 

The apartment once again fell into darkness. The monitor had long since gone to sleep, and now the most light was the moon through the window. It barely made it through the grime on the glass, unable to even leave a shine on the floor, let alone to allow him to see any of her. She had moved to the couch, laid down on it, fingers threaded over her stomach. He could hear the way her feet were shifting and jerking around, trying to ease her nerves. He let out a sigh when he pulled off his shirt. 

“I gotta cover your mouth,” he told her. Not like he really cared if Dave knew, just felt that was the easiest excuse to get to see her smothered. “If you can’t breathe, lick my hand.” 

His eyes rolled a bit when she snickered, though a smirk tugged at his lip. Figures a teenager would still find safe words and actions embarrassing and funny. At least that was a step closer to relaxed. He threw himself over to hang above her in a smooth motion, the weight of his landing make her jump an inch in the air. She grunted a bit when she landed. He was beginning to be able to make out the shape of her face as his eyes began to readjust, but none of the features.

He didn’t want to touch her body. Too intimate. Too personal. This was his daughter, afterall. He could imagine it though; him ravishing her, leaving love bites, giving her orgasm after orgasm. Eating her out and giving her a full tit massage. But even he had limits to how awful of a person he could be. He wasn’t about to make her fall in love with him.

He pressed his hand against her mouth. Her small face disappeared behind the size of his hand. He could almost touch her ear with his finger tips. His other hand pushed up one of her legs. She knew to move the other in kind. Without so much as a warning he nudged a finger in her, with nothing but a quick lick of his tongue as lube. Not that he needed it. If he were to guess, he would say the confrontation alone was enough to get her aroused.

Amidst his exploration of her he managed to notice just how patchy and thin her pubic hair was. No bumps from shaving, just a general lack of growth. A lack that boded well for how quick and careless he wanted to be with this. 

He felt her breath hot on his palm as her body shuddered. Her hands moved to his forearm, squeezing it. Her stomach was expanding rapidly with how many breaths she was taking. 

She was tight. A vice around just a finger. His head swam drunkenly imagining how good that was going to feel on his dick. First though he fingered her a little longer, thumbing her clit to get what little lubrication he felt he needed. She had seemed to relax at that point, sighing long sighs into his hand that he could only feel, not hear. It was making his palm slick.

When he pulled his hand away, he moved hers to her clit.

“Keep touching yourself,” he said lowly, his face directed downward as he pushed himself against her. “I want to watch.” 

He felt her nod against his hand. The head of his cock was already slick. With one hand on himself he felt around for her entrance, tracing her pussy up and down until he felt himself sink forward. She was holding her breath. He shook his head. That was just going to make it worse. 

Her whimpers were barely audible as he began to push forward, elbows unlocking as his entire body sunk closer to her. Her back was curling, and eventually he felt her breasts flush against his chest. They pushed against him as she finally pulled in a breath, chest heaving. He slowed, moving his lips to her ear.

“Just keep focused on touching yourself. You’ll adjust soon.” 

Her nod was panicked and quick, but once again he could feel the small, unpracticed jerk of her wrist between them. As she refocused she started to relax, back once again falling to the cushion. She pulled up her legs a little further as he reached her cervix. It was the exact 180 degree angle he had imagined. Too bad she was so small. Those last two inches of his dick were going to be so disappointed.

“You can stop now,” he told her, noting the rapid change in her breathing and feeling the small vibration of choked back moans. She could touch herself to stay calm and distracted, but he was going to be the one to make her orgasm. Otherwise, what would have been the point? 

Her hand pulled away and returned to hold his forearm. He could feel the slickness of her fingers, leaving his skin cold where it had rubbed off on him. As he pulled back an inch and pushed back in he felt her lungs empty into his hand like heroin from a syringe. She pulled fresh air from her nose as he pulled back again, and the process repeated, leaving his palm to warm and freeze from the moisture between every breath. 

His eyes adjusted more and he could make out now that hers were closed. Eyeliner smudged, mascara running just enough to pool along her waterline. Her face was full of color, right to the tips of her ears. 

She really did look so much like her mother. 

He could duck his head to look between them, his dick (mostly) hidden away inside of her. It was warm, almost tighter than he could stand. He would have to go slow for both of their sakes, under these circumstances. 

He did however keep going. Pulling out and in, a little more length each time until he could pull back to his tip and push back in in one smooth motion. She seemed to be growing more and more comfortable, if he could trust the gradual upturn of her eyebrows from strained resistance to pleasured desperation. 

The speed came next, now that she had gotten aroused enough that he didn’t feel the slow decline of his circulation. The more he moved the more her moans went from occasional to constant and steady. The sound hit his eardrums in a familiar way that he wasn’t expecting, forcing him to grip her mouth tighter to prevent the uncomfortable swirling in his stomach. 

It would seem even he had a conscience.

Once he found his rhythm though it went away. Maybe Rose just didn’t sound like her when she was too undone to carefully calculate how to emote to push his buttons most efficiently. If she was faking the sounds before she certainly wasn’t now. The pitch hiked up one thrust after another until her back shot up in the same harsh curl from before. 

Her entire body was shuddering and he could feel the unpleasant sting from where her nails had managed to break the skin on his arms. He couldn’t wait to explain those small crescent scabs to Dave tomorrow.

Her legs started to close as she came down from her orgasm, and she managed to get her calves around his hips. He was surprised to say the least, seeing her have stamina to hold out for him. He scooped her up with one arm to carry her with him as he sat up on his knees. With her in his lap she managed to fall a bit further down on him. 

He cautiously pulled his hand from her mouth, a warning glance all he needed to tell her not to make a sound. Her small nod communicated she understood, and her arms moved around him so she could bury her face against his shoulder. With both hands on her hips he could manipulate her freely. 

It didn’t really bother him that he had reached the point of masturbating himself with her. She didn’t care. He wasn’t sure she cared about much of anything. Even pressed against his shoulder he could hear the hiss of a choked back sob, more than one tear landing on his shoulder and rolling along his back, leaving a cool trail that made the hair stand on end.

Unlike her he came silently without instruction. Call it conditioning from how many men and women have come in and out of this room while Dave slept feet away. He was considerate enough not to come inside her where she would have to live the rest of the night feeling it. It covered her cunt and slicked the insides of her thighs but he wiped her clean with his hand, even being courteous enough to clean it using his own shirt instead of hers. 

They didn’t exchange words. She nodded with a smile she was desperately trying to bite back, retrieving the oversized shirt on her way back to the hall. She didn’t sniffle until she reached the door. Probably thought she was out of earshot. 

 

He woke up to Dave’s voice in the morning, muffled behind a closed door. His tone was nervous and wavering. Like he was trying too hard to seem cooler than he was. Like always. 

“You sure you have to leave already? I mean, it’s Saturday. I thought we could play video games or something.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tonight.” 

He sat up groggily as the hallway door opened. His eyes were barely visible over the back of the couch as she shot through the apartment like a bullet, eyes fixed on the door. Her thigh highs were uneven. She must have gotten dressed pretty hastily. 

“Say hello to Roxy for me,” he said aloud, surprising her, judging by the way her shoulders shot up. She turned to him, face flushed and eyes narrowing. 

“No one’s called her that since high school. Why would you-” 

The realization dawned on her quickly, much to his surprise. He could practically see her heart drop into her stomach with a thud by the way the color in her face drained and her gaze faltered. 

She knew her mother dropped out, didn’t she? And now she knew he knew her. 

She promptly turned on her heel and disappeared behind the front door, emancipating herself from him in one fell swoop. 

He probably deserved that. 

It took another 20 minutes for Dave to stumble out of his bedroom, still in pyjamas pants that hung too short, inches above his ankles. He really did need new clothes.

“I thought we were kinda hitting it off last night,” he lamented, rummaging through cupboards to try and find the one box of cereal that was hidden away. 

“She gave off a pretty sisterly vibe to me, dude.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, definitely.”


End file.
